Phoenix Phyre

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.

Title: PHOENIX PHYRE

Beta: Alex

Pairing: Alucard, Abraham

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Angst

Summary: One of my many daydreams of Dracula's capture

Warnings: Violence

Author's note: My first post here. This is a ficlette I've worked on for nearly a year. I hope you all enjoy. The word in the title, phyre, is an English toying with the word Fire. In English 'PH' makes the 'F' sound, and 'Y' sometimes makes the 'I' sound. So in English, Phyre is read as Fire.

Story:

How many men of the world viewed retreat as cowardice? It was some part of manhood in many cultures, that if one ever turned his back on a fight then he was a coward, less than human. Perhaps it was why those men rarely lived so long, charging blindly into a fight they would surely lose, all for the sake of manhood. These were also the same individuals that believed that to fight with one's head was fighting 'dirty.'

Dracula had always viewed retreat as a tactic, not an act of fright. Never had he viewed himself as a coward, though the enemy long shouted the word at him as he ordered his armies to flee into ground he deemed more worthy and to his advantage for battle. However, never had he faced an enemy that knew these tactics, and used their minds as a weapon as this human, Abraham Van Helsing, had done. The vampire's attempt to flee England for his mountain home was successful. He had hoped to recuperate there then return more fully prepared to face hunters in other countries. But Abraham had followed him. The human did not wish to give him time to breathe and gather himself. Dracula had then rethought his plan, hoping to lead this hunter and his little band into his own territory and thus crush him.

But Abraham was a clever man. He had stopped his pursuit at the village, and there turned the low life humans, his food, against him. It was not as if they were allied with him to begin with, but the village and the vampire had always lived in something of a harmony. Some sort of strange covenant in which Dracula would protect them, and they would be his food source by offering him those that were unwanted in their society such as deformed children and criminals. And then there was always the fools that wandered the forest after the sun fell, or those that dared band against him.

Now Abraham had them on his side, rallied them against him and thus made the area very dangerous for the vampire. Fires burned all through the forest where bands of men hunted the wolves, shooting them then burning the bodies. Dracula stood within his castle fortress, watching from a tower window as his children howled their pain and dismay. The packs scattered through the mountains. He let them go. This area was lost, it was time to retreat again and gather his forces once more.

He had set everything aflame. Moving slowly through what was once his home, Dracula carried a torch, laying it against the curtains, furniture, anything and everything that would burn. The damned hunters had tracked him this far, backed him into a corner and he expected them to come this night or next daybreak. The vampire had decided to make quite sure that they would find nothing but ash. Working his way from the bottom up, Dracula made sure nothing would be left for them to scrap or salvage. Nothing would be left from his life here but the skeletal remains of the castle itself, for stone would not burn.

Once the deed was complete, the vampire turned away from the fire, leaping from the nearest window and floating upon the air like a specter. And indeed, according to Abraham he was a figment of the past. A relic of ancient evils. Gritting his teeth against these blasphemous thoughts, Dracula watched his old home burn.

There would be nothing to hold him to this place, he had wanted to leave this life behind in any case. Tired as he was of the life in the rural mountains, where superstition and supernatural ruled human lives. The people from these places knew how to combat him, knew to hang garlic at their windows and doors, to plant wolfsbane around their houses and carry crosses with them everywhere. But the humans who lived in so called 'civilization' did not know these things, or if they did, mocked them. They thought to believe in such silly things as ghosts, vampires, werewolves and other such beasts was for young children or those who lived in the mountains away from their cities. And so Dracula had hoped to bring his kind into those very cities, to teach man to once again fear the dark, and of course, for an easy meal, for he could drink nightly in those cities and never have a worry.

His cape fluttered around him upon the wind. Dracula twisted upon the air almost as if he were swimming, turning to see horses galloping through the trees. Surely Abraham could not convince the villagers to blindly attack a vampire in the dead of night. His people were no such fools.

The growing flames burned his eyes with it's light, and so Dracula bid his old home a final farewell, riding the air back from the castle and concealing himself in the smoke. Darkness was his element, and the vampire king felt sure he could slip away and leave Abraham scratching his head. Even Dracula did not know where he would end up, but there were other cities besides England. Wherever man gathered in quantity, the old ways were forgotten.

Dracula felt himself freed, felt he had escaped the tracking of the hunter Abraham and his dogs. He let himself slowly levitate toward the ground, knowing the trees and shadows would hide his escape as the smoke rose toward the sky. The roar of the fire and shouts of men around him as they hunted his wolves thrummed through his ears. And so he was not aware of the hunters closing in, nor did he hear the snap of a crossbow and the whistle of the bolt as it cut through the air, and then through his flesh.

His howl of pain joined those of his wolves, though his was far more inhuman than even that of the animals. The tip of the bolt felt as if it had fanned out inside of him, like some sort of grappling hook. Dracula turned, his ruby eyes bright with fury as they settled upon the steadfast blue of his sworn enemy, Abraham Helsing. The bolt tugged at his back when he moved, and only then did Dracula see the thin, but sturdy cable that led from him to the man who's innards he wished to decorate among the trees.

Is it ever a wise choice to hold the leash of a wild beast? There is nothing to prevent it from biting the hand that holds it, the rope only prevents it from fleeing, not fighting.

Dracula's look of anger twisted into one of smug glee. For holding that cable, Abraham could not hope to avoid him. The vampire king crouched, kicking off from the ground to leap at Abraham as another bolt whistled from the darkness to strike him in the side. The force threw him off his target, and Abraham was quick enough to dance to the side.

The vampire snarled, the new bolt having fanned open around his ribs, making sure it had a strong hold. Having had tunnel vision for only Abraham, and his mind only on killing the human, Dracula had missed the other hunters. Gathering himself to his feet, the vampire looked around, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as he watched the three other humans come into view. Quincy had a firm hold on the second cable, moving slowly, sidestepping so he would stand across from Abraham and Dracula would be unable to lunge at either of them.

The vampire stood, black cape flowing around him as his eyes moved from one hunter to the other.

“You are catched, Vampire King,” Abraham's accented voice bellowed through the night. “Lie back and be still. We will end your life quickly, demon.”

“Such arrogant talk from a human with his new toy,” Dracula growled, reaching up to grip one of the cables.

Abraham's eyes narrowed as he saw the vampire draw up, and lifted his free hand, a pistol held easily in it's grasp.

“You will not escape this night, Count,” Helsing's hiss penetrated the air just before the sharp retort of the pistol echoed from the trees.

Dracula staggered back, Quincy keeping hold of his end of the cable, backing up to brace it around a tree as Abraham did the same. Leaving his post to one of his fellows, Abraham approached the quivering form of the monster. Dracula gritted his teeth, feeling strength and power flowing from him at a startling rate.

“Silver,” the vampire groaned, clutching at his chest with one hand as his eyes leveled upon Abraham.

“This is the power of the mighty vampire king, a demon even among the vampires themselves? You will die on these frozen grounds where even your homeland will reject you. On the morrow eve, you will not wake to take another life. Your dust will mix with the grime and dirt of this land forever. These will become a tainted woods, a price to buy your death.”

Abraham slipped a hand to his waist, pulling free a shining silver sword, it's sharpened blade catching the moonlight and reflecting it onto the vampire's face.

Dracula growled, a wheezing sound, as he struggled to stay upright, the silver bullet buried in his body bleeding his will to a husk.

With a forced laugh, the vampire staggered a final time, falling to his knees before Abraham. “You think you win? I will return from any death. Celebrate your night, but spend the rest of your lives looking over your shoulders, wondering when I'll return, wondering if the death near you is my cause. I will curse you with my dieing breath, Helsing. You will live in plague and fear!”

Abraham slowly lowered the sword, placing the point at the vampire's chest. “I think not, demon. No, you cannot be so easily killed now. But I will find a way. In the mean time, you will learn to repent for your crimes.” He arched his arm back, slashing Dracula across the throat and spraying the snow with blood.

Dracula choked, one hand lifting to press against the wound as he swayed, falling onto his side to be pillowed in stained snow.

“Ready the coffin, Jonathan,” Abraham called across the clearing. “He will be returning with us, and never know this life again.”

Nature of Thorns

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.

Title: Nature of Thorns

Beta: Jacob

Pairing: Alucard, Abraham

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Summary: request from Alex. Short somewhat-fluff between Abraham and Dracula.

Author's note: Alex asked me for fluff and this is the best I could do. Written to the song Time Killer.

Dracula stepped cautiously from the doorway, his eyes scanning the gardens before him, searching for any sign of human life. Sensing nothing, the vampire moved onto the cobblestone path that wove through the maze of flowers and trees. Rarely did he leave the manor, avoiding Abraham and the other house staff as much as possible. He moved fluidly as shadow, a ghost walking among blooming flowers and the sweet smells of spring.

The garden was almost a forest, with a high wall of shrubs boxing it in from the rest of the world. The moon was full and high, sending it’s glowing light down onto the small haven. Dracula paused to admire a night blossoming flower, reaching out with a scared hand to brush his fingers over the petals.

“Marvelous isn’t it?” a soft, deep voice inquired from behind.

A chill swept through the vampire’s body, tingling at the fifteen, still relatively fresh trails of silver wounds that patterned across his back. He was still healing from the earlier afternoon’s verbal fight turned punishment with Abraham.

“It is,” Dracula replied softly, having long since given up how the human managed to evade his senses. He believed it was part of the magic Abraham had been experimenting with on him. He tensed, feeling the weight of the human’s hand resting on his shoulder as Abraham moved to stand beside him. Dracula pulled his hand away from the flower, tucking it with his other beneath the heavy laboratory cloth he had wrapped around him like a monk’s robe. It was made of a thick material, and was often used by Abraham to cover bloodied subjects when he was working.

Abraham gave the vampire’s shoulder a soft squeeze, then moved past him, advancing through the garden’s maze with his hands in his pockets. The night was warm, Dracula noticed, and Abraham was without the coat he normally donned.

He felt it then, the unseen chord that stretched between them like a taught leash. He had felt it ever since the last session of madness in the lowers. Abraham never explained his workings, and everything was a surprise, or some kind of scientific test like a rat with cheese in a maze. The vampire shook his head, feeling a cool, night breeze blow through his hair and ruffle the sheet of cloth he draped about himself. He wasn’t sure why, but his legs began to move of their own accord, following after this man who had brutalized him for nearly two years.

Perhaps it was due to the seeds of slowly growing respect for Abraham, but Dracula followed as Abraham moved through the garden, admiring the flowers and the stars. The human never seemed to notice the shadow that trailed after him, moving silently upon bare feet across the pathway. Abraham seated himself upon a stone bench, crossing his arms as he seemed deep in thought, staring at the plants. Dracula stood, almost unsure as he watched, his hair blowing about his face. Finally, he continued forward, sliding to sit beside Abraham upon the stone, but being careful to maintain distance. He sat slightly bent away from Abraham, tense and prepared to move away quickly if needed.

“I once read an interesting novel, comparing men to plants. That any man could be described as a plant by his personality and actions.” Abraham paused after the sentence, tilting his head back to smile up to the moon. “It was such a strange book, I could not help but finish it. I have spent many nights sitting here and wondering what kind of plant I would be, and I think I have finally realized it.”

Dracula raised one sleek eyebrow, wondering which of them was more mad. He crossed his legs, adjusting his position to sit more relaxed, judging Abraham to be in too strange a mood to be dangerous. “And what,” he offered in a hiss of a voice. “Would that be?”

“A cacti,” Abraham replied with a chuckle.

The vampire blinked, his thin lips tightening as he smirked. “Hardly a flattering plant.”

Abraham laughed, letting his hands fall to rest on his thighs. “Yes, truly. But I have thought about it often. I surround myself with very obvious defenses, like the thorns of a cacti. No one dares come near me, I protect only myself and no others, always looking out for only myself. I punish anyone who tries to care for me, and those who wish to admire me, do so from a distance. Rarely do I offer anything to attract people, and if I do, it is always hidden behind a wall of thorns and spines.”

He looked over to Dracula, eyes relaxed and observant. “You, Count, are a rose.”

The vampire tilted his head, both eyebrows now raised. “Am I? And why do you say that?”

“Because,” Abraham continued, sounding almost as if he did not even hear the vampire’s words. “You hide your thorns beneath a bush of bright leaves. You produce a great flower to attract the attention of anyone who walks by. You trick and tease them closer, offering the flower to be picked, making all near you envious of your beauty.”

He reached out then, cupping Dracula’s cheek in his hand. The vampire tensed, eyes widening slightly as Abraham’s eyes bored into his, reading the decayed soul beneath. “And when someone dares reach out to take that beauty, your thorns prick them, stealing their blood and giving them pain. Even then, even after that pain and betrayal dealt, people will still try to steal the flower.”

Dracula did not move, even as Abraham’s thumb brushed over his lips and cheek. “But I am of the type to let the rose flower stay upon it’s plant. It lasts longer, and I will not be pricked.”

Chuckling, Abraham stood, letting his hand flow from the vampire’s face to brush through the wild strands of ebony hair. Dracula remained where he was, long after Abraham had left. He felt a chill through his entire body, all except for a point of burning where Abraham had brushed his face. Defiantly, the vampire rose, approaching the hulking form of the cacti. He crouched, reaching out, and careful to avoid the thorns, brushed his fingers over the thick plant.

“I suppose you cannot keep everyone out,” he mused to himself with a smirk.